NOVEL NEXT Chapter 16: Servant Disciple
Chapter 16: Servant Disciple
Damian had been here for a week, and every day felt both enlightening and tiresome. The people of the Sun God had an almost ritualistic way of driving out Nightmare Creatures.
They wore different types of charms and pendants—crosses, sun-shaped emblems, and intricately carved bracelets—all serving as vessels for the Sun God's power. When they raised these items toward the Nightmare Creatutes—beams of light will be produced upon enchantment, causing the Nightmare Creatures to disintegrate slowly.
Despite the satisfying display, it bothered Damian how limited these methods felt. The light worked on smaller, ordinary Nightmare Creatures that gathered near the city's edge like moths to a flame, but the looming threat was far greater.
Outside the city, somewhere in the depths of the night, the Shadow Dragon would fly above the city, untouched by the Sun God's blessings. The creature's presence was like an eclipse, a dark weight that even daylight couldn't pierce.
"Light should beat darkness, right?" Damian muttered, his brow furrowed as he paced through the training grounds. He was talking to himself more these days, trying to unravel the paradox. Every fiber of his being told him that light was the natural adversary to darkness, yet shadow was something different. Shadows were born from light itself, coexisting and thriving beside it. In a way, it felt as though light had met its match—something it couldn't fully erase.
He questioned his fellow disciples, asking about the Shadow Dragon, hoping one of them held a secret, a loophole he hadn't yet discovered. But his inquiries were met with uneasy silence or hushed warnings. Some of the disciples shivered at the mere mention of the dragon, their eyes darting around as if the creature might appear at any moment.
Others told him in whispers that it was the wrath of the Shadow God, an unending grudge laid upon them for their devotion to the Sun God. They spoke of the dragon as a curse, an embodiment of divine anger prowling just beyond the city's reach, a reminder of their god's limitations.
The weight of their words settled heavily on Damian. If the offensive power of the Sun God couldn't touch the dragon, what hope did they have?
Damian stirred the pot, watching the small pieces of potato, carrot, and lamb float lazily in the broth. The gentle bubbling was almost hypnotic, pulling him into a quiet rhythm. His thoughts drifted to the scarcity of meat, a luxury rationed so carefully that a single lamb had to last the entire community for half a year. It was odd to him—this place was rich in sunlight, blessed water flowed freely from a nearby river, and crops grew strong under the Sun God's watchful gaze. Yet, the shortage of livestock nagged at him.
"Logically speaking," he muttered to himself, "Fruits and vegetables grow just fine with the power given to us by the Sun God. The water source is fine since the river is constantly flowing. However, what concerns me is the amount of cattle and poultry, why is it so scarce?"
During his free time, he'd made a visit to the city's only farm, hoping to put his suspicions to rest. But what he saw only deepened them. There was livestock, yes, but not nearly enough to sustain a large event or feast—just enough for survival, nothing more. It seemed they barely maintained enough to feed the city's population, let alone satisfy it.
As he lingered in his thoughts, another possibility struck him. The daily Nightmare raids, the oppressive darkness, and the lack of peace—all of it could be affecting the animals, these were all putting them into plenty of stress.
Damian realized— this could be just as harmful to them as hunger. With creatures constantly lurking outside the city's borders and the sun's light often failing to reach here fully, how could the livestock thrive?
He sighed, slumping against a nearby tree for a moment of rest. "My logic isn't complete," he admitted softly, shaking his head. "But then again, this whole place defies logic."
In the midst of his musings, Damian felt a pang of self-awareness. Why was he so concerned about the cattle and the farm's issues? He had his own troubles to worry about—chief among them being trapped in this Nightmare Spell. He was letting himself get caught up in the city's mysteries, almost forgetting his own predicament. For all the people's reverence, the church held no real power to dispel the Shadow Dragon lurking beyond their borders. And he was still far from capable of facing a creature of that magnitude.
His thoughts spiraled, and he barely noticed his hand stirring the pot aimlessly until a gentle voice pulled him back to reality.
"Brother Damian, please stop stirring the pot. I think it's already cooked." A boy with curly brown hair, Brother Dorkins, spoke humbly, giving Damian a polite smile.
Damian blinked, a little flustered. "Oh, Brother Dorkins, my apologies. My mind seems to be somewhere else." He chuckled.
"Are you still thinking about the Shadow Dragon? It's best you focus on your studies and duties as a servant of our lord." Dorkins dipped a ladle into the soup, taking a small sip. "It's not bad, though it could use a bit of improvement," he added in a sweet, encouraging tone.
Damian scratched his head, trying to recall some spices from home.
'If only I had a pinch of something… wait, spices weren't common in the medieval era until later expeditions.' He glanced up, brows furrowed with a mix of curiosity and resignation.
"Say, do we have onions and garlic? Maybe some ginger… or curry?"
Dorkins tilted his head, genuinely puzzled. "I am not familiar with those. Are they some type of fruits or vegetables?"
Realizing he was treading into unfamiliar territory, Damian chuckled, shaking his head. "Never mind. It was probably just a dream I had."
Dorkins accepted the response with a nod and didn't pry further. Together, they filled bowls with the soup, passing them to their fellow disciples as they lined up for their meal. The quiet clinking of bowls and murmured blessings filled the kitchen as Damian and Dorkins worked. Afterward, they made their way to the Priests and Deacons' lounge, serving them the same meal as the disciples—a gesture of equality meant to show that no one received special treatment, with the exemption for the Archbishop.
As they finished, a question nagged at Damian. He turned to the boy, "Brother Dorkins, I have a question. Do you mind answering it?"
"Yes, you may." Dorkins gave him an encouraging nod.
"What is the Archbishop like?"
Dorkins paused, a hint of regret crossing his face. "Sorry, Brother Damian, but sadly I don't know. You may ask Brother Ferg about it, he's one of the few who has met the Archbishop personally."
Damian nodded, filing the information away for later. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind." He offered a grateful smile, appreciating Dorkins' openness.
They continued their tasks in comfortable silence. Afterwards, they both went back to the kitchen. Luckily for them, they didn't have to wash the dishes.
Damian walked quietly to the dorms, stopping in front of Brother Ferg's door. He took a steadying breath before knocking.
"Brother Ferg, are you in there? I'd like to talk to you in private," Damian said, keeping his voice respectful.
A muffled, groaning voice responded, "Leave me alone, please. I don't want to talk to anyone right now."
Damian hesitated but tried again, speaking patiently. "Please, Brother Ferg, may I ask about the Archbishop? Brother Dorkins mentioned that you have met him personally."
There was a long silence. Damian waited, his hope fading as the seconds passed. Just as he was about to turn away, he heard a quiet response.
"It's best we don't talk about the Archbishop," Ferg said in a low tone. "I might get in trouble."
Damian felt a flicker of suspicion, but he didn't press further. "I see. Thank you for your time," he replied politely, stepping away from the door.
…..
The next day, Damian decided to explore the city again. The streets were mostly empty, with few people venturing outside. Most residents seemed to prefer the safety of their homes, especially with the Nightmare raids happening regularly. The market was closed, so he made his way to the library, hoping to find answers about the church's hierarchy.
One question weighed on his mind: the power of the Archbishop. Shouldn't someone in such a high position be strong enough to challenge the Shadow Dragon or at least be equal in strength? Yet, no one seemed willing to discuss it.
He scanned through books, looking for any information on the Archbishop's role. But page after page, he found nothing. It was as if the history of the Archbishops was purposely left out. Frustrated, he approached the librarian, hoping for a clearer answer.
"Excuse me, Brother," Damian asked politely, "may I ask why there is no information about the Archbishops?"
The librarian glanced at him, then replied, "The Archbishop prefers not to publicize his personal information."
Damian nodded but pressed on. "I understand that. But why isn't there any information about the previous Archbishops? The past of other high-ranking members, like the Bishops and High Priests, are here. Why not the Archbishops?"
The librarian sighed softly. "The Bishops elect the new Archbishop, but none of us below their rank know much about it. The Archbishop remains secluded in his office until a successor is chosen."
"That doesn't make sense," Damian said, frowning. "Why does the church operate this way?"
The librarian gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, but I'd prefer not to discuss this matter any further."
'There is absolutely wrong here in this place, and it may not only revolve around the Shadow Dragon.'